


Sacrifices

by MidnightValkyrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightValkyrie/pseuds/MidnightValkyrie
Summary: With the clock is winding down on a manifested curse there's a small matter of sacrifice to be made on Hermione's part. He doesn't think it's worth it, she however, thinks it's worth everything.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 203
Collections: New Year New Mood board





	Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the New Year, New Moodboard Fest, thank you to the ladies who put in the hard work to make this fest possible!! <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Daphne stared at the wand clasped in her hand. She’d been struggling with the decision she’d made with Theo over the weekend. Not with the reason she was doing it, no that was settled in her mind. Casting the Imperius and whom she planned to cast it on, well, that was the heart of the matter.

The mental image of Draco lying in the grass next to the pond, hands gripping his hair as he curled in on himself steadied her. She and Theo had watched from a broken pane in the greenhouse behind a notice-me-not charm. He’d snuck off earlier in the day while the two of them had been wrapped up in choosing linens for their wedding. The threat of her mother’s intervention giving the two of them motivation to get things done. Theo had tracked him with a spell and they’d watched helplessly as he rocked back and forth in agony. They knew what plagued him. Luckily Theo knew what would make things come back right, even if Draco  _ was _ refusing to act.

Her target came in sight and she watched as the woman turned down an alleyway in Muggle London. She took a deep, steadying breath. It was now or never.

Fuck it. And fuck the consequences if this went poorly.

She’d ignored their owls, so now after much deliberation, Daphne was having to resort to this course of action.

A wand wave cast a silencing spell on her shoes, she then turned down the same empty alleyway and caught up with the witch.

“Imperio” she whispered, twitching her wand from her side, mostly hidden with her cloak.

Hermione stiffened, then relaxed as Daphne issued the commanded. She could feel Granger trying to buck the curse, so she grabbed her arm and apparated away with a tiny pop. No witnesses left behind and no one the wiser.

They landed in the empty drawing-room of Greengrass Estate. The seafoam green velvet chairs and matching curtains framing enormous windows brought a lightness to the room with its dark wooden walls and floors.

The last thing she did before Hermione slipped Daphne’s hold was summon her wand, stuffing it in her pocket.

The lioness took in her surroundings as her hands scrabbled for where her wand should be, bourbon eyes narrowing at the other woman viciously upon finding it gone.

“Give me my wand,” she hissed.

“I’ll give it back when you’ve heard me out,” she said primly, hands gesturing to a small table with a tea spread set out.

“Why should I after you’ve kidnapped me-” she spat, eyes cataloging the exits.

“You gave me no choice. If you’d just read at least one of the owls we sent-” she sniffed.

Hermione froze, her eyes cutting to the side, “What owls?”

“More like a dozen of the bloody things,” Daphne grumbled as she primly took a seat at the table, motioning pointedly to the opposite chair with her eyes.

Hermione huffed and flopped gracelessly into the proffered chair, knowing her ‘hostess’ was mentally cringing.

“Do you still have any of the missives you claim you sent?” Hermione finally asked after watching Daphne pour and fix both of their tea. How the other woman knew her how she took it was beyond her.

“Of course,” she said before whistling a complicated, melodic little tune.

A rustle of wings was heard before a handsome barn owl swooped into the room, alighting on the back of Daphne’s chair with a beak full of letters. She held out her palm and the bird dropped them neatly in a stack before leaving the way it came, somehow knowing it wasn’t needed anymore.

She handed them over to Hermione, who took them with a furrowed brow.

With each letter her eyebrows drew closer together, the furrow grew deeper.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” she whispered.

“Draco is far too proud to admit to wanting help. You do recall Sixth year, don’t you?” Daphne arched a brow as she finally slid Hermione’s wand back, “Besides, he feels that he’s contributed to ruining your life enough. He thinks the best thing he can do is leave you in peace even with the cost being so high.”

“But I’m not at peace! Clearly, that’s the last thing I’m at, especially if my mail has been rejected without my knowing,” she scowled at the last bit.

She didn’t know whether it was Harry or Ron or Harry  _ and _ Ron together who had sent away so many owls but she was going to find out.

True, she’d been struggling for the past few months but when hadn’t she been struggling in some form or fashion since their early childhood? It just took on different forms, either under her course load or desperately trying to keep her friends alive and out of trouble. It was always something, but luckily it wasn’t something beyond her capabilities to cope with and now was no different.

She would sort them out and strike the unholy fear of Morgana in them when she got back home.

The letters had all been various appeals for her to help Draco but it didn’t go into very much detail, likely in case they were intercepted.

“What exactly happened to him?” Hermione whispered.

“He was cursed sometime after it was clear that he wasn’t going to Azkaban.”

Her voice was filled with dread, “what kind of curse?”

“It finally manifested this spring. A ritual was required to fully activate it… If he isn’t bound to his soulmate by midnight at the end of the year, he’s done for. His life forfeited,” Daphne set down her teacup before she could explode it.

Hermione became a statue as she stared at the other woman, “how does he know I’m the one?”

“There are signs, rituals involving Old Magic you can do to guide you. Soulmates make for the most advantageous match, will produce the strongest of the next generation of magical children. Oh,” Daphne smirked at Hermione’s doubt-filled expression, “they espouse Pureblood supremacy, but you’d be surprised at how many histories and family trees have been rewritten with enough money and Dark Magic.”

“Why does this not surprise me?”

“You’re smart, so it shouldn’t.”

“Wait, tomorrow is the last day of the year!” Hermione’s eyes widened as the date hit her.

“It wasn’t a lightly made decision to Imperious and kidnap you,” Daphne’s eyes tightened as she felt the weight of the consequences hanging over her head.

“We’ll be the only ones to ever know,” Hermione promised, “now, how do we get him to comply?”

It was a minute lifting of the eyebrows, the slightest relaxing of her mouth but it was enough that she could tell Daphne was relieved.

Had it been anyone else, for anything less severe and it would have gotten ugly. Azkaban would have been a warm, tropical dream in comparison.

“Well, Draco plans on spending part of the evening with us, but ultimately he claims he wants to be alone at midnight. Not that I would want anyone around when I found my end by some unknown spell either.”

They thought for a while, tossing back and forth ideas. Hermione found the other witch intelligent and resourceful in their scheming and concluded that she would be a good friend to have if all of this worked out and made a mental note to ask the woman to drinks with her other girlfriends one night.

When they were finished Daphne returned Hermione from where she’d taken her before twisting back into the void to carry out her part of the arrangements. There had been one thing that Daphne could think of that was feasible in the situation they’d found themselves, however, it was a gamble on how he’d react.

Only when Hermione had accomplished her list of tasks and gathered everything she’d need to be successful had she returned home. Everything had been laid out on the table and compared it to Daphne’s list. It had, of course, been more complicated than just showing up and kissing him. He had to agree to it, be a willing party.

They had to dangle his heart’s desire in front of him if they had a chance in hell of saving him.

That evening, she prepared a hot bath, infused with herbs and fresh flowers that had been picked up on her shopping excursion. As she bathed, she meditated, clearing her mind of everything except Draco.

What she had told no one, but Daphne had already known, was that she had been dreaming of Draco Malfoy for months now. Daphne explained that despite Draco’s adamant refusal to disturb her in any way, the reptilian part of his brain and his soul recognized the mortal peril he was in and had sought her out in the realm of the subconscious, connecting them in dreams.

‘ _ The theory is that once you’ve found your soulmate, you’ll find each other in each subsequent life. If a bond had previously been present or recently established, then in dreams will it open up and allow you to find one another in the dream realm. The only exception to this is if one soulmate is in severe danger. You were around one another for seven years, your magic recognizes one another and if no bond has existed previously it has allowed you to be sought out by the basest parts of him that still strive for survival regardless of the rest of him. He thinks the dreams are simply because you’re on his mind so often. Not because your magic has recognized and accepted him, or even perhaps your soul. _ ’

Hermione had previously believed in precious little in the way of Gods and souls because she’d found it lacking in logic and evidence. The things she felt were due to chemical releases and reactions in her system, nothing more. She found it ironic that she would be able to accept an arranged marriage if the person selected for her was at least kind and thoughtful to her. Yet that sort of thing would forever be the realm of pureblooded girls, more of one which she’d seen at Hogwarts in various states of grief and waterworks over a betrothal letter from her family.

Now she found herself examining her beliefs all over again. If there was such a thing as a soulmate, and clearly there was, then there had to be a soul. And if there was a soul, well, that led to a whole tangle of thoughts regarding deities she’d have to delve into at a later date. For now, she had a base acceptance she was, in fact, in possession of a soul and that unless she completed her task sufficiently she was highly likely to face walking the rest of this life without the matching half to her own. This option was unacceptable.

She wiped her thoughts clean again and focused on the smells and feel of the water until it had turned tepid. Leaving the water, she spelled herself dry and went straight to bed, changing into a floor-length gown that reminded her of a simple, cream, backless toga. Before closing her eyes, the last thing she focused on was a flower crown Daphne had helped her create. It had taken some study from a floriography book but she had eventually settled on simply hawthorn flowers and traveller’s joy. It was representative of their wands, hawthorn and vine. According to floriography, they stood for hope and safety.

That night she dreamt of him while wearing the gown and flower crown. It felt both real and surreal as the ritual in the dream progressed. In the end, he’d stared at her with intensity as he clung to her fingers as if he was looking at and touching her for the last time.

When she awoke, her fingers smelled of apples and the taste of him lingered on her tongue from where he’d kissed her. She felt as if there was now a thread, finer than a strand of spiderweb that attached somewhere in her chest and if she just followed the tendril of it, it would lead her to him.

She spent the day in quiet meditation, examining her heart and preparing herself for the night ahead. She didn’t want to go in with any sort of waver. There was no room for doubt or she would lose him. She spent the day ruminating over months worth of dreams and the idea of losing him after last night was almost physically painful, prickling at that approximate place in her chest where the thread originated from.

She had Harry’s cloak, easily nicked from its hiding place where he kept it nowadays. She had soaked in the same floral and herb mixture in a hot bath and donned a similar dress to the one she wore last night, this one crimson. Daphne had given her a simple flour sack bag with all the things she’d need. At precisely eleven o’clock she donned her flower crown and the cloak, holding tightly to the port key Daphne had provided her with.

Time and space warped around her, depositing her in a solarium filled with plants and lit by the light of the full moon. She quickly shed the cloak, draping it over a thickly cushioned chair. The tile was cold beneath her bare feet but the thought was swept from her mind as the clicking of boots sounded from the traveling room. It felt like something wanted to draw her forward physically, the closer he got to her. She took the last moments she had to spread the Peruvian heliotrope flower petals around her before folding her hands in front of her.

It was obvious that she wasn’t the only one affected when he turned into the room and stopped, looking around as if confused as to why he was there until his silver gaze landed on her. She took the opportunity examined him as well, appreciating the way the moonlight latched onto his light coloring, catching any reflection it could off of his dark attire from the rings on his hand to the buckle on his belt.

“Granger?” confusion twisted his features until he took in her gown and the crown on her head and he froze.

The truth that the dreams weren’t just dreams, especially the one last night hit him like bludger. He sucked in a deep breath and made to step back but halted as if he was physically unable to leave her. She pulled the apple from the bag and finally gave in to the pull of the thread, slowly walking towards him.

He met her in the middle, having been unable to resist the pull towards her once she’d begun her advancement.

Her eyes met his and she extended the green, unblemished apple in her cupped hands as if it were a priceless item. She watched in trepidation as he looked between her and the fruit, warring with himself as he breathed heavily.

Daphne had explained that apples had sacred magic symbolism and were presented to one’s soulmate as an offering. If he took it, that meant he accepted her but if he rejected it then she was to gather her things and leave immediately as it meant a full rejection of her.

It was obvious, the war that was waging inside of him. He had planned on dying to spare her, to him the idea of his passing wasn’t a big deal. Being stuck with him came with a slew of negatives and very few positives. He couldn’t work, nobody wanted to associate themselves with the Malfoy name. He had very few friends left and both his parents were in prison for the foreseeable future. He was a social pariah and had to go out of the country to just be treated like a regular customer. If he accepted the gift, he’d be bringing all of that down on her too. The sole thing he could do for her was provide. He could give her anything her heart desired. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the gains weren’t worth the losses that he knew she would sustain.

He was opening his mouth to say no, to send her away and spare her when their eyes met. She looked so damn hopeful, so resolute in what she was doing that he pressed his lips tightly together to study her. There was no hesitation, no waffling. Not one iota of the doubt that was thundering through his system.

Here she was, offering him hope, safety, devotion, and life. His resolve to do what he thought was right crumbled when faced with her in the flesh and her physical, traditional offerings to him as if she’d been raised to the Pureblood traditions. It would be akin to spitting in her face and after everything he’d done or attributed to when it came to her, he knew he would now be unable to go through with his plans.

With trembling fingers, he took the apple along with the knife she offered him and split the fruit. After handing her half, he cut a wedge from his own and placed it at her lips.

It was an offering, symbolizing that whatever he had, she would be provided for first. That she would always come first. Daphne hadn’t gone over this portion but it felt instinctual to take a bite from the wedge he offered, chewing slowly as he ate the rest of the piece. Once the entirety of the apple was eaten Draco lay the knife aside and took one of her hands, twining their fingers together and pulling her closer until their hands rested on his chest.

The thumb from his other hand traced along her bottom lip before sliding into her hair, cupping her head and tilting it back so he could stare at her, giving her one last chance to back out.

When she remained statue still he bent his head the rest of the way, pressing his lips firmly against hers as the grandfather clock in the hallway rang in the midnight hour, introducing a new year.

Silvery light surrounded them as their magic mingled and souls aligned. The thread between the two of them glowed brightly, strengthened until their hearts beat together in sync before dissipating to a fine mist and sinking into them. While there was no more physical pull propelling her forward, Hermione was acutely aware of him as he pulled away.

A realization hit her, a shudder wracking her violently as her eyes filled with tears.

His trademark sneer appeared on his mouth, “Did you suddenly realize the weight of what you’ve done now that it’s over and you’re stuck with me?”

Brown eyes narrowed, causing two drops to speed down her cheeks.

She slapped his chest with her free hand, “No, you insufferable git! If we’d waited literally one more second” her jaw clenched shut to stop the quivering of her lips, unable to make herself say anything else.

The look melted from his face as he realized that she was upset he’d almost died.

“You should have let me go,” he whispered, bringing his thumb back to run along her lower lip after wiping the tears away.

She shook her head stubbornly, “I didn’t want to let you go the first time, Draco. You’re the one who ditched me, remember?”

He sighed, “I saw the grief you were getting from everyone, even strangers in the street. I couldn’t in good conscience let you throw away everything for what little I had to offer. More than that, I know the ultimatum your parents gave you.”

She froze. He wasn’t supposed to know about that.

He answered her unspoken question, “Your father gave a letter to Harry to send to me. Threatened me with a Muggle shotgun if I didn’t leave you alone. Told me everything I already knew, that I wasn’t good enough for you and would only bring further ruination to your life.”

“I hope you burned it. I haven’t been back to see them since they made their choice to try to force me into what they wanted,” she confessed.

He stared at her. She’d gone through a lot to get her parents back after obliviating them and sending them halfway around the world. He didn’t think she’d let anything come between them now that they were back. He hated that she had lost them yet again.

“Family is everything, Hermione,” he murmured as he pulled her tight to his chest.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be a family together then, won’t we Draco? Because if anyone else doesn’t like it they can bugger off,” she mumbled against his throat.

In truth, he had belonged to her since their Sixth year, when she’d taken care of him in the Room of Requirement after he’d collapsed from too many days without food and too many nights without sleep. She’d secretly been his only comfort. After his trial, he’d distanced himself when he'd discovered what things would be like for him for the foreseeable future and the judgment that came down on her when she was alongside him. Now for better or for worse, she was his too. This time for life.

“I guess we will, Granger. I guess we will,” he grinned into her curls.

All was well.


End file.
